Holding Hands...

Mate did it-- he made it the 1/2 marathon, and I am so proud.

I almost didn't get there to see--I took his word for when he'd get there, and I arrived about ten minutes before his earliest prediction--and he hobbled over the finish line about four minutes after i sat down.

Yay Mate!

His knee went out at around the 8 mile mark, and he walked the last five miles on a thrown knee. He's been stoically soldiering around the house, not asking for anything and getting his own ice-packs and Motrin.

I watched him looking for me when he crossed the finish line and I whooped and hollered until he waved--the last time he ran one of these, the crowd was ginormous and he didn't see me. He thought I'd missed his big moment. He was two hours late that time, and I'd been waiting with four kids (two of which were not my own!) and I was four months pregnant and hella uncomfortable. It was probably our only public fight ever. We don't fight a lot, and I was pissed because I'd been worried and he was pissed because he thought the complete hassle it had taken to go see him had meant I hadn't seen him at all.

This time was much better.

We stood around and talked with his friends (This had the potential to be the most boring conversation ever for a muggle to overhear: "I had a good run, did you?" "Yeah, I had a good run... how 'bout those hills!" "Yeah, those hills were brutal, but you were looking good..." They spiced it up a little, so my eyes didn't glaze over, but it wouldn't have mattered if I was bored silly--it was their victory and their conversation.) Mate talked them into taking a picture and I can't wait for a copy. (Okay--they hemmed and hawed about this--I finally had to tell them to stop being girls and take a hot and sweaty picture!)

I didn't take the kids--it was early, and I don't think they would have been nearly as excited as I was. (Besides, it was threatening to rain all day--never did, but it kept thinking about it!)

The walk back was too long. I'm such a dorkfish about those things--even Mate agreed that, looking at the angle I hit in the parking garage which was the furthest walkable distance from the finish line put me at the absolute furthest distance for him to walk with his bum knee. He forgave me though--I had Motrin in my purse as we started the long haul to the car.

We talked about nothing--how good the run was, how cool it was to see my friend cross the finish line unexpectedly (about four minutes after he did!) and how cold it was on the hill. (Even a few good quips about nipple bandaids which we both find both necessary and hilarious. Just do. Can't explain it.)

We would shift the stuff we were carrying every now and then so we could hold hands.

This June we will have been married for twenty years--and I can't a better way to spend the day than with my Mate, when he's done himself proud.